*tuck

Her head tuck under his chin
Shutting out the world outside
–a place filled with paranoia

She is on tiptoe
His hands on her waist
–a feeling much stronger than nostalgia

Two persons inlove
Enclosed by a blissed-out glass
–a snow globe of euphoria

— 

vienna,

A Snow Globe of Euphoria 

Boyfriend!Jungkook

Originally posted by sotaehyung

  • Having a ton of private jokes no one else understands
  • Shy hand holding in public
  • But a lot of hand holding in private
  • Warming your hands with his when it’s cold
  • Or tucking your hand into his pocket
  • Stealing his hoodies
  • Stealing his white t-shirts to sleep in
  • Stealing his beanies
  • Basically you just take a lot of this clothes because they are sooooo comfortable
  • Movie nights
  • Watching Iron Man with him
  • You’ve seen the film so many times you can quote it
  • Cooking seafood for him when he misses Busan
  • Actually just cooking for him in general
  • Low key jealousy when you get along with other boys
  • But he would get over it
  • And respect who your friends are
  • But maybe just conveniently be there when you meet up with them
  • 100% loyalty to each other
  • Pulling pranks on his hyungs together
  • Gaming with the maknae line
  • Just playing around with the maknae line
  • Congratulations, you are the newest member of the maknae line
  • Bunny smiles
  • Pretending to understand you when you speak English
  • “…Pardon?”
  • Hearing all his song covers first before he uploads them
  • Singing you to sleep
  • “Babe”
  • “Jagiiiii”
  • Leaning your head on his shoulder/chest/leg
  • Pulling his fingers through your hair
  • Sweaty hugs after performances
  • Talking about literally anything and everything
  • Climbing to a rooftop to see the stars
  • Hours when you can’t stop laughing
  • A casually romantic relationship in a perpetual state of young love

hello there! here are a few tips to help keep your backpack nice and tidy!

don’t just shove things in randomly.

put things in your backpack carefully. i like to tuck my papers and handouts in a folder to prevent them from crumpling up and tearing. you could also put your papers in a binder or an accordion file. don’t just throw things in your backpack and shove it all down. you’ll keep your items safe and in good condition while keeping your backpack tidy! it’s a win-win :)

keep loose things together

i keep my pens and pencils and things in a pencil case, things like pads and bandaids in a pouch, and money / loose change in a wallet. this way, loose things won’t be rolling around in your backpack to get crushed / lost. you could use plastic ziploc bags to keep things together too!

use hair ties / rubber bands / twist ties to keep cords together

this way, your chargers and headphones and whatever else won’t get all tangled up! they’ll also be easier to take out of your backpack.

clean out your backpack every week

sometimes, you’ll just inevitably accumulate small trash inside your backpack. don’t wait until trash piles up. it’s much easier to clean a small bit of trash every week rather than cleaning out a whole bunch of trashy bits in one go. i personally like to throw out bits of trash i find when i pack my bag at night :)

pack your bag at night.

you’ll have a lower chance of forgetting things, and you’ll be in less of a rush in the morning. also, you’ll have the time to put things in neatly without any cramming or shoving.

don’t overload your backpack

try not to push your backpack over its maximum capacity. your zippers may break and your backpack might rip, and that’s never a good thing ;;

wash your backpack every now and then

just use some lukewarm water, a damp cloth, and a mild detergent. loosen up some of the dirt and streaks with a soft-bristle brush or an old toothbrush, and then wipe down both the interior and exterior with the water + detergent + cloth. some backpacks are good to go in the washer while others are better off hand-washed. let it dry in the sun.

hope this helped and good luck! if you’d like to request a post, go here and if you’d like to see more helpful posts, go here!! thanks :)

Cuddling With Steve Rogers - Steve x Reader

Cuddling With Steve Rogers - (Steve x Reader)

Words - 840 (Not Many, It’s a Drabble)

Warnings - Some Fluff.

AN - Trying to break my writer’s block, for my next fic, and the requests. Tell me what you think! <3


Cuddling with Steve Rogers is always a loving, and caring experience. For a while, the Solider was afraid of showing any affection in public, due to the fact, he was raised in a time, where PDA was not truly shown - Unless you were Howard Stark, and your reputation proceeded you.  

When he did hug you, however, it never failed to make you smile. He would always give you a look, before holding you close. He would sigh, raising his eyebrows a little, before wrapping them muscular arms around you, looping his arms, so your head was resting on your chest. Your arms usually stayed tucked into your sides, around his hands. His choice, entirely. He wanted you to make sure you were safe, protected. 

He loved to feel you against your chest, your warm head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat - the heart which beats for you. He loves to hear you breathing in unison, reminding him you’re always there, and he’s there for you. More than once, he would kiss your forehead, the top of your head, the temple; his mouth would be a constant reminder of ‘I love you.’

Whenever he was excited, or happy, even just when he woke up in the good mood, his cuddles would come as a complete surprise. You would be cooking, walking, even just looking at the wall, and you would feel strong arms around you, lifting you effortlessly, and spinning you. Him laughing, and you squealing. He would put you down, after, letting you catch your breath, keeping his hands on your waist, as a sign of love.

You can tell when his mission has been rough, from the second he comes home. It dosen’t matter if you’re waiting for the Jet to land, or waiting in the tower, the look on his face will tell it all. His shoulders slumped, frown on his face. It dosen’t take long, before you stand up, or he joins you on the couch. This time, his face will be hidden in your neck, hiding away from the world, where your his safe place. He would rest his hands around you, holding you close, as if you were a comfort blanket, and he was the child. He had lost too much, and wanted you to stay with him, no matter what. 

Cuddles at night, would be common, too. The moment both of you are ready for bed, they begin. Usually, he was first in bed, waiting to see you come in. It didn’t matter if you were tired, or grumpy, bedtime cuddles resolved everything. You would rest your head on his broad chest, raising up and down with his breathing. his arms would wrap around you, keeping you close at all times, asking one another about the stresses of the day. 

This did change, sometimes. If you fell off of his chest in the night, or moved at all, his hand would still be near yours, making sure you were close. But then, his nightmares. All he thought about, was Bucky, Hydra, even the chances of you leaving. Sometimes, he woke up in a sweat, panting, close to crying. It wouldn’t take long for you to wake up either, seeing him in pure pain. After telling him everything was okay, he would lie back down, but his chest would be on yours, and your arms wrapped around his, protecting him from the demons. If you ever woke up, he would follow your lead, making sure you were okay, like he did for you. 

On missions, hugs were never different, either. Although, they were more hidden, secretive. Whenever you both got back to the base, and you were safer, his arms would be around you, and yours around his, There would be a few strange looks, but even in one another arms, you would be asking one another if you were okay.

Wedding night cuddles. There was only one, but after the cake, Tony’s Speech, and Bucky/Sam performing their wedding performance, even after the Bacon Sandwiches were served at 1am, to Sober people up, you bid goodnight, retiring to your room, hand in hand. Even after dancing in the Hotel Room, giggles from one another, standing up, you found yourself his his embrace again, his hands now drawing circles on his back, and yours resting around his neck, and your head on his chest. He found himself saying how he loved you, Mrs Rogers.

The point was, the cuddles never changed. Even when your 7 and 5 year old sons came bounding into your bedroom at 7am in the morning, quickly followed by their 3 year old sister, stumbling in her toggle of blankets, all three announcing that ‘Santa had been!’ The eldest would sit with Daddy, whilst the middle would nestle next to you, and your baby girl, curled up on top of daddy’s chest. Steve would slide over to you, resting you on his chest too, and kissing all over your face.

It didn’t matter when, the affection never changed.

anonymous asked:

Hey, transgender woman here! How can I cover up my bulge in my skirts and short shorts? I haven't had surgery yet so I wanted to know how it can be done to cover it, and make it seem like I have a vagina. Thx! 😊

Kii says:

That’s called tucking. Look through out transfeminine resources for some how-to instructions!

BSD Novel: Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era (Chapter 4, Part 7)

A brief respite. This part is hands down one of favourite parts of the novel, so please enjoy! Thanks to @nakaharachuyaa @mlntyoonqi and @bananasaurr for proofreading efforts once again.

Keep reading

4

ya lit meme: [6/6] locations

tucked away in northwestern london, a twenty minute walk from kings cross station, lies number twelve, grimmauld place. both unplottable and hidden behind a fidelius charm, the house is invisible to all but a few. though the neighbouring muggles don’t even know the building exists, it was for many years home to the black family — one of the wizarding world’s oldest pureblood families, and extremely proud to be so.

Day 3 of 365.
It’s the same cafe he always goes to. He takes his coffee with milk and two sugars, the way he always does. The scent of lavender is in the air and he sees her walk past, brown eyes and a sunshine smile despite the bitter cold; complete warmth. She takes her coffee black and goes to sit down, cracking open the book she had tucked under her arm. This is someone he needs to know.
Day 15 of 365.
Winter refuses to let up, snow still finding his way into his socks despite his extra clothing. The feeling in his stomach couldn’t be butterflies, it had to be bees. He orders his usual and she walks by and does the same, going to what seems to be her favorite table. He suddenly remembers that he speaks English and has motor skills, and stands. Five feet and seven inches of awkwardness, he walks over to her table and inquires about the book she’s been reading. They talk, with her voice warmer than the way her lips curved with every sentence, and a laugh like wind chimes.
Day 79 of 365.
It’s the first day of Spring. They’ve been talking everyday now, with no signs of stopping. The lavender is a nice break from the cigarette smoke of the city. He asks her out, the lavender mixing with the scent of coffee beans. As peculiar as it would have sounded to him if someone else was detailing it, he loves it. She says yes. This is their new beginning.
Day 86 of 365.
The date is perfect. Her lips are even better. She tastes like cheesecake, her choice of dessert. The next day, he takes his coffee black. It’s new, it’s different, it’s like her.
Day 172 of 365.
It’s the first day of summer. She wears a yellow sundress, appearing even warmer if that’s even possible. They go out for dinner, get dessert and watch the sunset on a park bench, orange and pink leaving no trace of what was once a blue sky. He smiles at her, and leads her by the hand to his car, driving out into the countryside. They get out, lay on the grass and watch as the sunset fades into the night sky, and the stars take over. He pulls her close, and their lips touch. At home, they make love for the first time. She is starlight and lavender, warmth and–
Day 255 of 365.
Autumn starts tomorrow. Things have been a little off lately, but not enough to be worth discussing, so he attributes it to her vacation ending and work starting up again. The next morning, as he has for the past few months, he takes his coffee black.
Day 279 of 365.
It’s halfway through October. The texts are later. The phone calls are shorter. Her voice shifts, from a gentle warmth to a biting cold, a shadow of what it once was. He doesn’t understand, and she knows all too well. He loves her, she doesn’t love him.
Day 286 of 365.
No phone calls. No texts.
Day 293 of 365.
No phone calls. No texts.
Day 300 of 365.
No phone calls. No texts.
Day 301 of 365.
Facebook update. Taken. Not by him.
Day 301 of 365, 15 minutes after.
This has to be a joke, right?
Day 301 of 365, an hour after.
He calls her. He gets the operator.
Day 334 of 365.
He doesn’t take any coffee today. He hasn’t for the past month. He sits at the cafe, waiting to see if she’ll come by. She doesn’t. He walks outside, and the scent of lavender is in the air. Breathing is a duet his lungs and brain no longer know how to sing. He keeps walking.
Day 1 of 365
It’s a new year. Nothing special.
Day 3 of 365.
He wonders if he remembers that they met a year ago today. He remembers it clearly. She posts a picture on Facebook with her new man. He blocks her.
Day 79 of 365.
It’s the first day of Spring. It’s the same cafe he always used to go to. He takes his coffee with milk and two sugars, the way he always did to before her. This is his new beginning.
—  Maxwell Diawuoh, New Beginnings (211/366)
A First Time For Everything

What’s that? It’s a ridiculous hour of the night and I have to get up early tomorrow? Time for some self-indulgent Marichat based off this post I made in a feverish delirium last month! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

~*~

“We did not make out.”

Marinette, sprawled on her back with her arms tucked behind her head, arched an eyebrow at Chat Noir, who sat crossed-legged against the wall. “We didn’t?”

The bed was a little crowded with the two of them on it, but comfortably so. The cube-shaped lamp on Marinette’s shelf provided the only light in the room. Chat Noir absently scratched her stuffed cat behind the ears. “We kissed, but we weren’t making out,” he said. 

“How were we not making out?” Marinette recalled the kisses they exchanged in the rain. She wondered why her stomach thought it necessary to let loose the butterflies every stinking time—she was dating him, for crying out loud.

Chat lifted a clawed finger as if preparing himself to make a very important point. “It’s my understanding that in order for it to be considered making out, there has to be tongue.”

Marinette pursed her lips. “Huh. I guess that makes some sense.”

“Yup,” Chat said.

She turned her head towards him. A devious smile worked itself up and she bit her bottom lip to subdue it. “Wanna make out?”

Keep reading

he teaches me to grow up with my ankles crossed
and sweet words like “please” and “thank you” tucked
between my legs. wear just enough lip gloss to hide
the blood on my teeth, never too much war paint,
save the real fight for the boys who eat their fill
from my body on the streets. his voice makes me want
to kiss him, hard and bitter and intoxicating like the bass
pounding in my bones with all the times i felt like i wasn’t
good enough, never quiet enough, never soft enough for
him to sink his fingertips into my skin. pretty girls don’t
get angry, pretty girls don’t get torn apart when you
rip their guts out and make a feast out of their flesh; he
is all starving muscle ready to devour a girl whole and i
am only left with bare ribs and the imprint of his body
to call my own. my survival is a storm crackling with
electricity, my hips are lightning, my lips are thunder
and i’m tired of silencing the sky. he calls me “princess”
but i want to be the fucking queen.
—  royalty // t.e.

if i go to bed before gunter’s cage gets covered for the night
he gets VERY upset and starts screeching
so every night i need to tell him “goodnight” and i have to be one of the last things he sees before he’s covered
i guess he likes being tucked in

anonymous asked:

BokuTsuki: Tsukishima brings Bokuto something to eat on the way to meet him from practice. Bokuto says, "Aw, thanks dude, I love you!" because he's a loving person who often tells people, even platonically, he loves them. Tsukishima just goes scarlet and remains silent for 5 minutes as he tries to process that. From that day on, you might notice Tsukishima bringing Bokuto a lot more treats throughout the day, and a smile he tucks behind his hand when Bokuto accepts them with the same words.

Almost Regrets - KBTBB

For @humorcomchantilly in the hopes she feels better xo

You both enjoyed and appreciated with a reciprocal respect the softness and grace of how a Tuesday sounded - you hadn’t exactly agreed on a date yet in particular although mutually felt that although not a single word had been said in regards to what you both knew was planned and had to be done; approaching rather quickly that the date settled upon would have to encompass both a heartfelt quality yet at the same time give off the feeling of absolute irrelevance.

The tiny, hole in the wall cafe tucked within the outskirts of town was one of the many places you’d come to waste time in when your head wasn’t clear and you needed a secure place to retreat; when you found that your mind didn’t at all have the ability to think straight whatsoever the way you had initially intended it to. You’d met him once here - not exactly met, more so conveniently run into one evening after work had finished. He had insisted to buy you coffee and you just like any other women in the world would, smiled with a small blush and muttered a shy thank you. The two of you had absolutely nothing in common - yet somehow, through persistence of curiosity and timid conversation you hung off each other like a hook, line and sinker.

It was the beginning of an almost regretful relationship.

Tension and cracks began to show almost too quickly - somehow though whether it be with makeup, a slight slip of the tongue or pure, sincere physical contact the two of you made things work. Fusing two incredibly different worlds together had been difficult yet there was a simplicity you felt around him which slowly became addictive. He made you feel warm, safe, secure - in return you offered him care, the ability to feel grounded and a love of which he’d never before experienced - at least to say, it seemed that way.

You couldn’t remember why the arguments started - the petty swipes at one another for things completely out of your control and his which frustrated you yet also reminded you that in the blink of an eye something juicer, more fulfilling; perhaps even a little ravishing could come his way when least expected and hastily snap up his attention. You worked hard to keep yourself at the front and centre - soon enough, all the trying in the world didn’t seem worthwhile. His eyes seemed to wander from your focus; his hand didn’t quite hold yours the tender way it had like when you first realized that perhaps, with the aid of some dark, unsophisticated humor; you two were possibly meant for each other.

The tears which streamed down your face poetically the morning you decided to call things quits were salty and yet stale. You remembered how harshly he bit his bottom lip and tongue to avoid choking up a response when told of your emotions and possible suggestions. You were the first woman he’d ever said ‘I love you’ to. Whenever you heard it all you could think of was how he only had time for work. You were the only woman he made clear he wanted to have as exclusively his own. You were harsh with turning your back and walking straight out his office door. The cigarettes and late night street food mixed with copious amounts of fruit flavoured alcoholic cocktails weren’t enough to numb the pain you initially felt. Soon enough though - your heart became as bitter as cold black coffee.

Food didn’t taste the same. Water simply couldn’t quench your thirst. You’d changed career paths just to avoid his gaze and for some strange reason; although you tried not at all to think about it - whenever you thought you heard his name your heart began to race a hundred miles an hour; sinking slowly before mimicking the shatter of a million, minuscule pieces.

It was by chance - you suspected - or perhaps the universe had aligned in such a way that even after 6 years of not seeing one another you still remembered his scent and quirks - the tone of his voice and his stance - how his lips had promised to tell you no lies and that familiarity of being in his arms. The two of you had run into each other at that cafe. He had a bouquet of red roses in his lap. You had a novel of his you’d never given back. You hadn’t planned to meet up with one another it just seemed that things had worked out this way. How funny - it was also a Tuesday.

You had suggested that you perhaps leave to give him space yet he insisted that you stay.
He ordered coffee - sweet; two sugars, with milk and cream; just the way you use to.
An unfamiliar blush you hadn’t felt in years heated your cheeks.
The words ‘you look good’ spilled from his lips. You knew that he really meant ‘beautiful’.

Accepting the flowers, your fingers lingered near one another’s yet never quite touched; every now and again when you’d slip your fingers around the handle of the mug you’d brush past him softly - almost coy like. When it began raining outside, he offered to drive you home just like any gentleman would. When you declined however, he made it clear that he’d at least escort you to your front door. The company you supposed you wouldn’t mind.

The storm brewing in the sky above seemed to worsen the closer you got to your front door. He had taken his jacket off to shield you from the elements. You couldn’t begin to believe how many memories his subtle scent provoked and how he still kept what he’d always held in his pockets which didn’t surprise you. He was a man of habit. Standing on the top step - your heights for the first time in a long time levelling out, you smirked and leant forward to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, he without warning had decided to twist things back to how they once were years ago; colliding his lips with yours. You instantly gave in; the feeling, the memories, the intimacy completely vivid and exactly as they should have been.

Groaning into his mouth as you gasped for breath your free hand snaked around the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as you heard quietly the sound of keys jingling in his pocket. You knew he had kept your spare one and pulling on his bottom lip with your teeth you encouraged him to unlock the door with the murmur of his name which came out as a school girl asking for help. Tripping backwards into the apartment; the bouquet of flowers quickly found a temporary home on the floor as he shut the door behind the two of you and you got accustomed to how he felt. Through the barrier his shirt created you could still make out every muscle and scar you’d once before traced your fingers along. Letting yourself get absolutely lost in the moment - you failed to feel his gentle touch creep behind you and unzip the back of your dress. Pulling on his tie to walk further into the apartment you stumbled recklessly through the hall, pulling him down on top of you once your back made contact with the sofa.

The unusual sensation of bare skin on cold leather was one you didn’t hesitate to welcome. Feeling his lips at your jaw, creeping down towards your chest and making themselves at home at the hollow of your neck you wondered if a night of intimacy was all that was needed to recorrect everything you’d held a grudge for and despair towards for the last few years. He was still the same man. You had figured out so much from the way before he’d spoke. You hadn’t intended on meeting him today just as you hadn’t years ago yet his demeanour, his poise and his touch were just as you remembered.

It was intoxicating yet infuriating at the same time.
It was with that thought you realized - even after so long you were in love with him.

“Stop.”

The command caused him to break away and look down over you.

“Why now?”, you questioned feeling tears collect in your eyes, “Why all of a sudden.”
“It hasn’t been”, he spoke, “Every Tuesday 4th I head into the cafe and sit at our usual seat and wait for you.”

How many Tuesday 4th’s could there possibly be over 6 years?

“Why?”, you stuttered incoherently. The feeling of a single tear streamed down your face and quickly - he used his thumb to wipe it away. You couldn’t tell, but you had a feeling that these tears didn’t taste salty at all.

“Because… after you left - I realized, instantly; that I should never have let you let me go.”
“Then don’t.”
“I won’t.”

It was a simple kiss which sealed the deal; an agreement which was settled by the help of a few following words as you both shifted free of your clothing restraints.

“Say it…”, you whispered.
“Say what?”, he blushed.
“What you know I want to hear.”

Brushing some hair out of your face and looking down into your eyes, it was a heated - quixotic lip lock that got your heart racing as you both moaned each other’s names into each other’s mouths. Responses agile and most definitely true.

“…I love you ____.”
“…I love you too Soryu.”

Special

“Wake up sleeping beauty. We’re here,” Harry lightly purred into your ear.

No response. Your neck lay awkward and crooked against the car seat and your knees were tucked underneath you. You had been in this position for a few hours; it would take much more than some gentle coaxing to wake you up.

Letting out a lighthearted sigh, Harry swung open the driver side door of his Range Rover and walked over to your side. As soon as he opened your door, you felt a light gush of wind fan across your face. Still, you only stirred. Harry pressed his lips at your ear and began to nibble.

“Baby, I said we’re here. It’s time to wake up,” he said again. You moaned but your eyelids remained closed. Smirking to himself, Harry’s lips dragged down to the sensitive spot on your neck. The delicious combination of swipes and bites awakened your senses, each making you feel more and more alive. And awake.

“Okay, I’m up,” you surrendered easily, sitting upright.

Harry’s lips were pulled into a cocky side grin. “I swear, Y/N, it’s easier to wake the dead.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you threw your hands around his neck, pulling his all too willing body closer. “Shut up and kiss me, Styles,” you demanded.

The second his lips touched yours, your hands flew to his hair, kneading your fingers through the long curls. Harry moaned as you tugged on the strands, the sound a heavenly reward. Your lips parted as you struggled to keep your breath and Harry wasted no time sliding his tongue into your mouth. It routinely explored the crevices it knew so well before you lost all control and wrapped your lips on his tongue, sucking lightly. You could feel Harry’s body tense in front of you. As if your touch was poisonous, he loosened his grip on your hips and stepped away.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, his deep voice hot and husky. “Someone could see.”

Your lips mashed together as you willed yourself not to cry at his rejection. You don’t know why it still bothered you. But it did. The way Harry always pulled away from you after a few steamy moments. But oh, did it bother you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Harry said softly, lifting your chin with his finger. “You okay?”

His face was sincere and concerned. He didn’t even know he was hurting you. And nothing good would come from him knowing.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, wiping at your eyes. “Let’s just get our bags. Your parents are probably waiting.”

Harry let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand threw his hair. “Oh yeah, my parents. Are we crazy for doing this? My mum and her new husband with my dad for the weekend?”

“Hey, I’m sure they’ll all be on their best behaviour,” you soothed. Harry’s hand was on your back as you walked up the long driveway to his house but he didn’t seem convinced.

Harry’s father was sitting on the porch, a serious expression on his face. But when he saw you walking up the steps, his face immediately lit up and he took two long strides to join you.

“Harry, Y/N,” he said, engulfing you and Harry in a simultaneous bear hug. “How’s my son and his better half?”

You giggled despite being certain that Harry was truly your better half.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Styles,” you said politely.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Harry grumbled. “Where’s mum?”

Des’ smile faltered. “She’s inside,” he said quietly. You and Harry exchanged a glance. That would explain why he was outside. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you go put those bags inside? Then when you’re done, Harry, come back outside. Your mum wants us to chop some wood for tonight’s fire.”

A quizzical expression overtook Harry’s face, which you noticed but didn’t comment on.

“Okay,” he said simply.

Harry followed his father’s footsteps through the backyard towards the small but dense forest their house backed onto. The light squish of Harry’s rain boots on the damp grass was the only sound. Once they were hidden within the trees—and away from any prying eyes—Des stopped walking. Harry spoke first.

“So what did you want to talk about, Dad?” Harry asked, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His father stared at him blankly in response. “We got rid of that fire pit two summers ago, so I know that whole chopping wood thing was an excuse.”

“Geez, your son travels the world for a bit and suddenly he’s smarter than the old man,” Des said dryly. “But you’re right, I do have something to say.”

“So say it,” Harry said a little too sharply. He didn’t mean to sound disrespectful, but something about his father’s demeanour was making him nervous.

Des opened and closed his mouth before he spoke. “Y/N, she’s a sweet girl,” he began.

“She is,” Harry said in a clipped tone, already on the defense.

“I like her a lot, she’s good for you.” Des paused and smiled. “But something tells me that even if I didn’t think that, it wouldn’t make a difference.” He looked at Harry knowingly.

Harry shifted. “I like her too. A lot. And yeah, don’t get me wrong, I care about your opinion Dad, but I’m sure about Y/N. I don’t need anyone else’s approval.”

“I know you don’t. You’re a grown man and you make your own decisions. But you’re still my son and I want the best for you. And Y/N. I just hope…you guys…” He sighed. “You’re being careful right?”

Harry stared at his dad, whose face was now red.

“Careful?”

Des shuffled his feet nervously. “Yeah, careful. When a man loves a woman, sometimes passion takes over and if they’re not, you know, careful, they can get into a situation they’re not ready for.”

Harry forced a smile, digesting his father’s words. He was worried about you getting pregnant, but there was no need.

“That’s not really a concern right now,” Harry said carefully, not wanting to disclose your personal business.

“So you’ve been using protection and stuff?”

“Not exactly,” Harry said slowly.

Des’ head snapped up. “What? Are you kids crazy?”

Harry’s hands dug deeper into his pockets. This wasn’t something he wanted to share with his father. “We haven’t…we haven’t…yet.”

“Oh,” Des stated plainly.

“Yeah.”

Des looked at the ground as he took in what Harry was saying. Something about the conversation was getting to Harry.

“Is that what you think of me?” Harry asked in a bold tone.

“What?” Des was taken aback.

“You think I sleep around that much that just, of course, I’d have to have bagged my girlfriend by now?” Harry hated the way the words felt coming off his tongue.

Des blinked a few times before speaking. “What? No, of course not. But come on, Harry, I was once your age and you and Y/N seem pretty serious. That’s all. If I’m completely honest, I’m a little surprised.”

Harry sighed, knowing his father made complete sense. “I want to. I want to be with her in that way. But she won’t just be another shag to me,” he admitted.

Des walked over to Harry, a proud smile on his face, and clapped his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Sometimes the one you want the most, is the one you wait the longest for. That’s what makes it special.”

It would have been a good time for the fire. You lay cocooned in Harry’s arms, your head against his steady heartbeat, but not even his body heat was enough to make up for your thin long sleeve t-shirt. When you and Harry had joined his parents and sister in the backyard, the weather had been a little more forgiving. Now, the wind had picked up and the sound of the crickets was unmistakable. You shivered against Harry and snuggled closer into him. Although considering that you were practically on top of Harry sitting on one lawn chair, it wasn’t possible to get any closer.

“You cold?” Harry asked in a hushed tone.

There was no teasing in his voice, only concern. You didn’t listen to him about taking a jacket, and now you were paying the price. Your teeth chattered in response. Wordlessly, Harry sat upright and removed his grey hoodie in one swift motion. The t-shirt underneath had ridden up, exposing his back. You ran your fingers along the exposed skin, eliciting goosebumps. Someone cleared their throat, reminding you that you weren’t alone. With a blush on your cheeks, you met the eyes of Gemma, whose eyebrows were wiggling suggestively.

“Won’t you be cold?” you asked Harry, his sweater in your hands.

“Take it,” he insisted. “I have you to keep me warm.” You smiled shyly as Harry lightly kissed your forehead.

“Get a room,” Gemma teased, causing Harry to flip her the finger.

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Anne scolded good-naturedly. Really, she was just happy to have her family together.

Snuggled in Harry’s sweater, you wrapped your arms around his waist and listened to the easy chatter of his family. The family that felt like yours.

As the sky darkened and the conversations faded, your eyelids began to close. You were so relaxed and at peace you couldn’t help but drift off.

Anne and Des had finished blowing out the outdoor candles when Harry quietly announced that it was bedtime. Ever so gently, he lifted your body into his arms and carried you bridal style into his house. Awkwardly, he opened the door into his bedroom and placed you gently onto his childhood bed. The sight of you there nearly knocked his breath away. Somehow you managed to make the space that was so familiar and ordinary to him special. He briefly wondered how comfortable you’d be sleeping in your jeans, but he didn’t dare wake you. With an innocent kiss to your lips, Harry left you alone. His mother had requested the separate sleeping arrangements. Though it nearly killed him to leave you alone.

Closing the door quietly, he stepped into the dark hallway. He was met with his mum standing a few feet away, a smile of pure joy on her face. Harry cocked his head to the side in question.

“You love her,” Anne said simply.

Harry’s breath caught in his throat. A chill crept up his spine before a feeling of warmth spread in his stomach. He knew he loved you. Of course he did. But having the woman who knew him almost as well as he knew himself say it out loud made it all the more real. The only person who didn’t know was you. Harry could only nod, emotion had caused his throat to tighten.

The light pouring into the room from the small crack in the window was dark. It was the middle of the night, but you had woken up, surprisingly alert with an uncontrollable ache. You were warm in your clothes, and figured a glass of water and a change into your pajamas would do you some good. The shorts were short, barely covering your bottom, and you weren’t wearing a bra, but you didn’t expect to run into anyone on your way to the kitchen.

The cool water helped to neutralize your body temperature, but the heat in your core was still burning strongly. There was only one thing that could quench it. You might not be able to touch Harry at the moment, but maybe seeing him would suffice.

You quietly crept to the living room, expecting to see Harry’s large frame sprawled on the couch. But instead, he was sitting upright, hands on his knees, awake as ever. His eyes were glued to the floor, and you could tell he was concentrating. He was wearing only his briefs and his gold necklace. You wanted him. More than ever. You wanted him.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” He asked you. You were caught.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged, sitting next to him on the couch.

“I know the feeling.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He winced as he came into contact with the sore muscle.

“Let me,” you suggested as you began to knead your fingers through the knot. Harry’s eyelids fluttered with relaxation. Bending forward, you pressed kisses along his shoulder and collar bone. Harry moaned lightly, causing the ache to pound even harder.

“Kiss me, Harry,” you begged.

Harry licked his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he inched closer. When your lips connected, a fire ignited within your body. Harry’s hands went to your hair, guiding your head to gain perfect access. Much too soon, he pulled away, scooting as far away as possible from you on the couch.

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” he said in a gruff voice.

You sighed, and let the lone tear fall. There was no use holding it in anymore.

“This won’t work Harry,” you told him.

“What?”

“If you don’t want me this way or are not attracted to me, then this relationship won’t work,” you explained.

Within seconds, Harry was on his knees in front on you. “You think that? That I don’t want you? That I don’t find you attractive?”

“That’s how it feels,” you admitted.

Harry stared at you incredulously. How could you feel that way? How could he let you feel that way?

“I want to be with you, Harry, you know, really be with you. But every time I try, you pull away from me,” you bit your lip to keep from full on sobbing.

Harry’s heart broke as he took in the distressed girl in front of him. But you had it wrong, so wrong.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he said. “But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I want you so badly you have no idea. But I don’t know if that’s what you want. The last thing I want to do is push you to do something you don’t want to or pressure you. I can only handle your body in small does. Any more than a taste and I’m ready to combust. Then I won’t be able to stop. But you’re not just another fuck to me, heck, it’s not about me at all.”

You pressed a finger to Harry’s full lips to interrupt him. They parted and you leaned in, removed your finger, and kissed him.

“I want you, and I’m ready. And I don’t want you to hold back anymore, I want all of you,” you told him. “I’m ready.”

Now there was no way he could turn you down this time. Frustrated, he looked around his home, realizing that he couldn’t possible take you with his family present, asleep or not. But he knew some place he could.

“Come on, Y/N, we’re going for a ride.”

Harry couldn’t keep his lustful eyes on the road as he drove down the empty street. His hand was permanently placed on your thigh, squeezing gently every now and then. The energy in the vehicle was magnetic. There was a lust and a love and a passion in the air that made your bodies buck with desire. His eyes darted to your face, trying to take in the fact that he was about to have you. All of you.

“I bought this place a few years back. No one except my mum and sister know about it. It’s for when I’m home but need complete privacy. Somehow my home address had become somewhat of a tourist destination,” he shook his head sadly.

You nodded, twirling your hair in anticipation. Minutes later, Harry pulled into the stone drive of a small, picturesque cottage. The place was beautiful and serene and yet somewhat mysterious in the moonlight.

“Ready?” Harry asked.

“Ready.”

As soon as Harry had closed the front door behind him, he gently backed your body against it, devouring your mouth with his own. His hands cupped your backside and lifted you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. Lips never breaking contact he led you to his bedroom. The design was simple, with nothing but a king sized bed and a chest of drawers. But it was exactly what you needed.

Your legs were spread open, an invitation for no one other than Harry. His large cock strained against the fabric of his underwear and you knew he needed release soon. With a rumble in his chest, be tore himself away from you and retrieved a small foil packet from a box in the top drawer. The hairs stood on the back of your neck.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he tore open the wrapper.

You swallowed. “Am I special to you?”

Harry froze, his nightmare interfering with his dream. “Yes, yes you are.”

“The box was open,” you commented quietly.

“Gemma stayed here with a boyfriend last summer. My aunt was visiting and they wanted privacy. I swear you’re the only girl I’ve ever brought here,” he insisted.

“Okay.” You believed him. Trusted him.

Harry was positioned at your entrance and your heart was pounding in anticipation with what was to come.

You could feel his tip on your inner thigh as he spoke. His lips were at your ear.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I won’t be able to handle being inside of you without you knowing that I’m in love with you.”

Your eyes shone with unshed happy tears. “I love you, Harry.” It was a night of firsts.

Harry smiled and kissed your lips, the corners of your mouth and your nose before he pressed into you.
“I’ll go slow,” he promised.

As he filled you completely, you felt pain, then pleasure and then this deep seated connection to the man you were in love with. But more than anything, you felt special.

[Ianto] took a bite of his pastry, a stray raisin tumbling over his bottom lip and skydiving into his lap. He tutted and flicked it away. Reaching for the serviette that came in the and, he tucked it above his perfectly knotted tie - full Windsor, naturally - like a bib. He didn’t altogether care what the pastry did to his waistline, but it could keep its damned paws off his suit.
— 

The House That Jack Built (by Guy Adams)

[Ianto Jones: A summary

(neat, tidy and is that just me or… able to make pretty much anything sexy??)]